Kindness That Remains

"There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fill you with so much quail shot that you can't move, and the kind that just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies."
― Robert Frost

I was reading The New York Times this weekend -- and thinking about how much I enjoy it.  As I did, I remembered how I began reading it in the first place and the memory took me back more than 35 years.

I had several teachers in high school who stood out, including the English teacher who decided she needed to use an 8th Grade grammar book to teach us how to write English correctly.  It worked and I remember her fondly still. 

But there was another teacher who played a significant role in my life, not only in high school, but also in the decades after.  This teacher was no ordinary teacher and she had not had an ordinary life.  We used to say that she had lived through all the wars she taught, which was actually true given that she had been born in 1908.  She had been a part of American and world history -- a fact that sometimes created controversy among the school community where she ended up teaching.  But no matter, this teacher always held her head high and never made apologies for her life.  One of the classes she taught was Contemporary History and in order to get an A in her class, we had to have a Letter to the Editor published in the local paper.  That is how I began writing Letters to the Editor.  (Years later when one of my letters was published in The New York Times, she saw it and wrote to let me know.)  At one point, she was named Director of our high school and it became harder for her to teach her Contemporary History course, so she enlisted me as her Teacher's Assistant.  I frequently "taught" the class on my own, and as part of the deal, she got me a subscription to The New York Times -- reading it was part of being an educated woman, she told me. 

In addition to getting me completely and forever hooked on The New York Times, this teacher was a guiding force in my life.  She reviewed my college essay and rejoiced with me when I was accepted at my first-choice school.  During my freshman year in college, when a friend of mine was killed, I called her and she comforted me, sharing her experience with the loss of a friend. 

We were friends for more than 20 years.  When she moved to the other side of the country to be closer to her family as she got older, I visited her as often as I could.  She taught me about growing old gracefully and how each stage of life offers its own pleasures.  A lifelong learner, she participated in a book club at her retirement community and remained active in community activities.  When she died at the age of 94 more than 10 years ago, I was profoundly sad.

Remembering how I began reading my favorite newspaper brought back memories of decades of kindnesses that steadied me and gave me strength, and that continue to influence me.